Ju-chan froze, his eyes wide with horror. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the house, followed by the hurried footsteps of Mi Cha coming from her room. She stopped in the doorway, her gaze immediately falling on the fragments of glass on the floor. Her expression shifted, a mixture of sadness and restrained anger.

“That… That was his favorite glass,” Mi Cha said softly, her voice trembling.

Ju-chan opened his mouth to apologize, but she turned away abruptly, walking back toward her bedroom. The door shut behind her with a quiet click.

Ju-chan knelt down, carefully picking up the broken pieces, his heart heavy with guilt. He could hear faint sounds of sobbing coming from behind the closed door. After disposing of the shards, he stood outside Mi Cha’s room, hesitating before knocking gently.

“Mi Cha,” he called softly. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to—” He stopped, unsure of what else to say.

There was no response. Gathering his courage, Ju-chan continued, “I know it’s not just a glass. It was important to you because it was important to him. Please, let me make it right somehow.”

After a long pause, the door creaked open slightly, revealing Mi Cha. Her eyes were red and swollen, tears still glistening on her cheeks. Without a word, she stepped back and motioned for him to come in.

Ju-chan followed her to the bed, where they both sat down. The silence between them was thick with unspoken emotions. Mi Cha reached over to the bedside table and picked up a framed photograph of her late husband. She stared at it for a moment before holding it out to Ju-chan.

“This was him,” she said, her voice breaking. “He loved that glass. He used it every morning, no matter what. It sounds silly, but… it felt like a piece of him was still here with me because of it.”

Ju-chan took the photo carefully, studying the smiling man in the picture. He looked kind, confident—a stark contrast to Ju-chan’s unsure, awkward demeanor.

Mi Cha let out a shaky breath. “I know it’s unfair,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “But sometimes, I wish you could be a little more like him. Just… so I could feel like he’s still here.”

Her words were raw and honest, and they cut deep. Ju-chan felt a lump rise in his throat, but instead of defending himself, he reached out and placed a hand on hers.

“I’ll never be him,” Ju-chan said softly. “And I know I can’t replace what you’ve lost. But I promise I’ll do my best—for you, for the baby, for everything you still need. I’ll try to be someone you can count on.”

Mi Cha looked at him, her expression a mix of vulnerability and gratitude. For the first time, she allowed herself to lean into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Ju-chan hesitated briefly before wrapping his arms around her in a gentle embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “For trying.”

They sat there for a while, the weight of their shared grief and hope filling the room. Though the road ahead was uncertain, in that quiet moment, they found solace in each other’s presence—a small but significant step toward healing.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft silver glow over Mi Cha's front yard as Ju-chan stood by the door, preparing to leave. His hand rested on the doorknob, but he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at Mi Cha, who stood a few steps away. Despite her best efforts, the sadness still lingered in her eyes, her expression far from the calm he had hoped to see before leaving.

Ju-chan took a step closer to her, his voice gentle. "Mi Cha, I know things aren’t easy right now, but you don’t have to go through this alone. You’re stronger than you think. I’m here for you, okay?"

Mi Cha nodded softly, offering him a faint, forced smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She appreciated his words, but it was clear she was still struggling with the weight of her emotions. "Thank you, Ju-chan," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.

There was a long pause, both of them standing in the dim light, the distance between them feeling much greater than it should have been. After a moment, Ju-chan turned, walking slowly towards the door, ready to leave, but just as he reached the porch, he stopped.

A sudden urge washed over him—he couldn’t leave her like this. Not when she was still so clearly burdened by her grief. He turned around, taking a few quick steps back to the door.

Mi Cha had already taken a few steps back into the house, but when she heard Ju-chan’s footsteps, she turned, surprised to see him coming back.

Ju-chan stopped in front of her, looking into her eyes, his tone soft but firm. "I… I can’t just leave you like this. I’m staying with you tonight."

Mi Cha blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by his sudden declaration. "What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don’t have to—"

"I want to," Ju-chan interrupted gently, taking a step closer to her. "I don’t think I could sleep tonight if I went home, knowing that you’re here, alone. You’ve been through so much, and I just… I feel like I need to be here with you. Please, let me stay."

Mi Cha hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching his face as if trying to understand his sincerity. She wasn’t used to letting people in so easily, especially with everything she was still dealing with, but there was something about Ju-chan’s earnestness that made her heart soften. She had been carrying the weight of her sorrow alone for so long, and the thought of having someone there, even just for tonight, brought her a small sense of comfort.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "I don’t want to be a burden—"

"You’re not a burden, Mi Cha," Ju-chan reassured her, offering a small but genuine smile. "You never have been."

Mi Cha swallowed, her emotions swelling up again, but this time, it wasn’t just grief—it was something else. Maybe hope. Maybe trust.

"Okay," she said, nodding slowly. "You can stay."

Ju-chan smiled, relief flooding through him. He stepped into the house, and Mi Cha led him to the living room. As they settled in, the weight of the day seemed to lessen, even if just a little.

Ju-chan made himself comfortable on the couch, but before he did, he turned to Mi Cha, who was standing nearby. "If you need anything, I’m here. Just... talk to me, alright?"

Mi Cha gave him a small smile, the first one that felt truly genuine in a long while. "Thank you," she said, her voice quieter now, almost like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

As the night grew deeper, the two of them sat together in the dim glow of the lamp, the silence between them more comfortable than it had been in the past days. Mi Cha, no longer alone in her thoughts, felt a small spark of peace, knowing that Ju-chan was there.